Chapter 7 - My Father Kidnapped the Woman Dominic Thought Was DeadDominic did not speak for almost five minutes.
His mother.
Alive.
The woman he had buried seven years earlier after supposedly dying in a private clinic in Switzerland.
Gabriel explained the truth.
Elena Unaretti had discovered Antonio’s trafficking operation years ago.
She helped Gabriel gather evidence.
When Antonio realized she knew too much, Gabriel staged her death and hid her in northern Italy.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dominic asked.
“Because you were already running the family. Antonio watched you constantly.”
“I would have protected her.”
“You would have started a war.”
“Maybe I should have.”
“And hundreds would have died.”
The words landed because they were Dominic’s own logic.
Gabriel knew his brother well.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Antonio’s men grabbed her outside Turin four days ago.”
“Why?”
“To exchange her for the evidence.”
“What evidence?”
Gabriel looked at me.
“The original trafficking ledgers.”
My mother had copies.
Elena had originals.
Together they could destroy Antonio.
“We make the exchange,” I said.
Both brothers said no simultaneously.
I stared at them.
“That was adorable.”
Neither appreciated the joke.
Gabriel explained Antonio demanded the ledgers and me.
“Why me?”
“Because you control the trust.”
Dominic’s answer came like steel.
“He’s not getting you.”
“What if that’s how we get close?”
“No.”
“You don’t own me.”
His expression changed.
The old Dominic might have reminded me that I belonged to him.
This Dominic did not.
“You’re right.”
That surprised me.
“You decide for yourself.”
Gabriel looked between us.
“Well, marriage has made you strange.”
Dominic ignored him.
“But if you go, I go.”
“That seems fair.”
The exchange was scheduled for midnight at an abandoned freight terminal.
Before we left, Dominic found me alone.
He handed me a bulletproof vest.
“Romantic wedding gift.”
“Put it on.”
I did.
Then he gave me a small tracking device.
“Shoes?”
“Bra.”
He stared.
“Practical.”
“You were hoping for shoes?”
“I was trying not to imagine the alternative.”
I smiled.
The tension between us had become impossible to ignore.
Not lust alone.
Something deeper.
Trust being built under terrible circumstances.
“Dominic.”
“Yes?”
“If tonight goes wrong—”
“No.”
“Listen.”
“No goodbye speeches.”
“It isn’t goodbye.”
“What is it?”
I stepped closer.
“If tonight goes wrong, my mother stays protected.”
“Always.”
“And Gabriel gets the evidence out.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t start a war because of me.”
His jaw tightened.
“That one I cannot promise.”
“Dominic.”
“If someone kills my wife, there will be a war.”
My heart stumbled.
Not because he said wife.
Because of how he said it.
I reached up and touched his face.
He became perfectly still.
“Why did you really marry me?”
“At first?”
“Yes.”
“Obligation.”
“And now?”
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Ask me when we survive tonight.”
Then he kissed me.
Not like the cathedral.
Not careful.
Not ceremonial.
This kiss contained everything neither of us had said.
Fear.
Anger.
Need.
Three days of impossible intimacy created by danger.
I kissed him back.
When we separated, his forehead rested against mine.
“Now I have another reason to kill your father.”
“Get in line.”
The freight terminal smelled like rust and river water.
Antonio stood beneath floodlights.
Beside him sat an older woman tied to a chair.
Elena Unaretti.
Dominic stopped breathing when he saw her.
She looked at him.
“My boy.”
His face broke.
Only for a second.
Then the mafia boss returned.
Antonio smiled.
“Touching.”
I stepped forward.
“Let her go.”
“My daughter.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I gave you life.”
“My mother gave me a life. You gave me DNA.”
His smile disappeared.
“Still dramatic.”
“You murdered Isabella.”
Silence.
That was enough.
“You did,” I whispered.
“She betrayed me.”
“She discovered what you were doing.”
“She was weak.”
My rage became cold.
“She was your daughter.”
“She was a liability.”
Dominic’s hand closed around mine.
Not restraining.
Anchoring.
Antonio noticed.
“You think he loves you?”
I looked at Dominic.
“I think he respects me.”
Then I looked at my father.
“That’s already more than you ever gave any woman in your life.”
Antonio raised his gun.
Everything happened at once.
A shot.
Dominic dragged me down.
Gabriel’s men opened fire.
Elena’s chair toppled.
Marco rushed forward.
Antonio disappeared behind shipping containers.
I crawled toward Elena.
A man appeared beside me.
Vincent Carbone.
The assassin.
He grabbed my hair and pulled me upright.
A knife touched my throat.
“Tell them to stop.”
Dominic froze.
Every weapon turned toward us.
“Let her go,” Dominic said.
Vincent laughed.
“Drop the guns.”
Dominic immediately lowered his.
Gabriel swore.
“Dom—”
“Do it.”
Everyone obeyed.
Vincent dragged me backward.
I remembered São Paulo.
Loan sharks.
Three jobs.
Walking home alone after midnight.
Men like Vincent always believed frightened women became helpless.
Sometimes fear made us observant.
I drove my heel into his knee.
He stumbled.
I grabbed his wrist.
The knife cut my shoulder.
Then a shot exploded.
Vincent fell.
Dominic reached me before I hit the ground.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Grazed.”
His eyes widened.
I smiled weakly.
“That’s what you said.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then kissed my forehead.
Antonio escaped.
But Elena was alive.
Vincent was dead.
And Gabriel had recorded Antonio admitting Isabella’s murder.
We had him.
Or so we thought.
Because when we returned to the estate, every computer had been wiped.
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The original financial evidence was gone.
And Marco was missing.
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